


There's Something I Didn't Get to Say to You

by heyweirdkid



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: And are the biggest geeks in the history of ever, Hangover, James and Michael are trolls, M/M, Schmoop, Teasing, Zimothy's Secret Santa Fic Exchange, press junket shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyweirdkid/pseuds/heyweirdkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://zimothy.tumblr.com">Zimothy's Secret Santa Fic Exchange</a>   prompt:  <a href="http://tumblr.com/ZIJNMx7k-oRW">My TARDIS? My Doctor.,</a>  originally posted by heartfelton. McFassy please! Only slightly AU: they’re still actors, but neither of them is married. The idea is that they always try to sneak these two sentences into their interviews because it’s how they show their geekiness AND it’s how they say I love you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Something I Didn't Get to Say to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninemoons42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Measure of Peace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/219764) by [coffeejunkii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii). 



>   
> So it felt a bit weird writing my first RPF. I don't actually know if James or Fassy _are_ Doctor Who fans but for all intents and purposes of this fic, let's just assume they are. I guess it would be possible to enjoy the fic without first watching ["The Doctor's Wife,"](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1721226/) but there are several references to it so if you haven't seen it, you might be a little bit left out.
> 
> The title is a quote from the episode.

Michael arrives at the parking lot with minutes to spare. He parks the rental Nissan Altima, already missing his bike and the feel of the powerful motor under him as it roars to life, and sits for a few moments, drinking in the rare moment he has to himself before he has to go out and be swept away into the long day of interviews he has ahead.

If Michael is going to be honest, press junkets are not his most favourite thing about his job. He’s definitely not looking forward to sitting around all day and being asked the same question and having to come up with different ways to phrase the same answers.

What he is looking forward to, though, is seeing James again.

Michael feels a weight lift from his shoulders at the thought of those baby blue eyes, hearing that infectious laughter, brushing his fingers against those adorable freckles, cuddling up next to each other as they catch up on the latest episodes of Doctor Who.

Michael’s lips curl at the memory. James had dropped in on his trailer one evening when Michael had been catching up on the last season. They’d intended to head out for a few drinks but ended up staying in with a few drinks, having a marathon and drunkenly discussing The Doctor’s Wife at length (“I’d be the Doctor!” “No, I’d be the Doctor!” “But you’d make a good TARDIS.” “… I would, wouldn’t I?”).

But it’s been too long since then. Their schedules haven’t permitted them to see each other as often as they would like nowadays.

They talk every night, though. Sometimes they run out of things to say, but it doesn’t matter because just knowing that James is there on the other end is enough to get Michael through those cold and lonely nights.

Michael steps out of his rental and takes a sip of his takeaway coffee, already feeling much better about his day at the thought of James and as the caffeine kicks in. One good thing about taking a car, though, is that it’s possible for him to take away coffee.

He starts to head for the studio when he spots a familiar car pulled over. Michael grins when he recognises James’ car and saunters over to where the driver (Danny, Michael recalls; about five weeks into the job, a good kid, although a bit antsy) is leaning into an open door.

“Mr. McAvoy? Sir…?” Michael watches as Danny does his best to shake James awake. Michael already knows it is a futile effort even as James murmurs, shows him two fingers and turns away from him.

“Ohhh man, come on, sir, I can’t lose my job over this. They’ll have my head.”

Michael wants to laugh as Danny whines to himself, apparently thinking that he’s alone in the parking lot. He’s pretty sure Danny would be mortified if he knew that Michael has overheard him.

“Mr. McAvoy, sir, we’ve reached the studio,” Danny tries once more, shaking James’ shoulder, but he has apparently managed to doze off already.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man. I’m going to lose my job, and I won’t be able to pay the bills or the rent in that shitty little apartment and I’ll have to move back in with my parents—“ Danny pauses and there is a horrified look in his face as the realisation dawns on him. “Oh God, I'll have to move back in _with my parents_ and---“

Michael decides the kid’s had enough and speaks up. “Hey, Danny boy.”

Danny turns toward Michael, mouth slightly agape. Michael takes a sip of his coffee as Danny stares at him, sputtering without forming comprehensible words. Michael frowns. Maybe he got the kid’s name wrong?

“It _is_ Danny, right?”

Danny manages to nod his head and Michael peers in behind him, scoffing as he sees James’ sleeping figure.

“Out late last night, eh?” Michael asks, looking over at Danny again. He remembered James calling him from a club. It was still pretty early into the night so James had been sober then. It looks like he didn’t _stay_ sober, though. Michael’s lips quirk at the thought and he fights back the pang of longing that he couldn’t have been there with him.

Danny seems to have finally found his voice because Michael is getting a reply out of him at last. “Yes sir. Mr. McAvoy… He won’t wake.”

Michael smiles, his eyes trailing back on James’ curled figure. “Yeah, he never could handle his alcohol.”

Danny is silent once more but Michael suspects it’s more because he’s being cautious rather than surprise or shock or whatever it was that had caused him to lose his voice just a minute ago.

Danny’s only been driving James for a little over a month now but Michael imagines that he doesn’t need to be told about James’ drinking. After all, Danny only gets the call if James is unfit to drive himself.

“It’s all right, Danny. I’ll handle this.”

Danny shoots Michael a look of utter gratitude as he moves aside to let Michael work his magic. Michael leans over James as he coaxes him awake, trying a different tactic than Danny.

He leans over James and can’t help but nuzzles his neck, placing a kiss on the tender skin exposed just for him to explore. James rewards him by leaning into the touch and letting out a contented sigh.

Michael takes his fedora off to thwack James over the head with it. “Oi, McAvoy, get your lazy ass off that car. I am not going to be late because of you.”

Michael can’t see past James’ dark-tinted sunglasses which have become slightly askew but James seems to be stirring awake, turning his face to Michael and his lips, those sinfully red lips, tug into a small grin.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” James leans closer to Michael and places a hand over Michael’s, letting it linger there for a moment before prying the coffee cup away from him.

“Mmm… Coffee.”

Michael laughs as he watches James take a sip of _his_ coffee, the grin turning genuine now as James hands the cup back and pulls Michael in for a chaste kiss.

“Cheeky little bugger.” But Michael is smiling as he pulls away and disentangles himself from James. He nearly bumps into Danny, who is suddenly very interested in a distant bird soaring in the clear morning sky.

As James emerges from the Prius, Michael has to hold onto his arm as he staggers out while trying to find his footing. They head inside the studio together, with Michael’s arm around James’ shoulder. James uses this as an excuse to snuggle close to Michael for support and just for the comfort of it, wrapping an arm around his waist. He steals Michael’s coffee from him again and polishes it off.

“Hey, that’s my coffee!” But it’s a half-hearted protest. Even though Michael lives on his morning coffee, one glance at James’ dishevelled form and he actually feels sorry for him, just a little. “You owe me, McAvoy.”

“It’s a date then.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Michael heads towards the dressing rooms and James groans as they make a turn, leaning against Michael, letting him lead the way because God knows he can’t navigate his way through this studio with the splitting headache he’s having right now.

“That’s it, Fassbender. No more drinking for me. No way. I’m going dry.”

Michael snorts at James’ declaration. “That’s what you said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

Michael laughs as James pouts at him. There is a lull in their banter. Michael looks down at James and the words are out before Michael can take them back. “I missed you.”

James doesn’t say anything. There is a long silence that stretches out between them as they head towards the make-up department and Michael wonders if James, who’s buried himself in Michael’s shirt, had been listening to him at all. But then he hears a whisper through the fabric of his shirt. “I missed you, too… My Doctor.”

Michael glances down at James to see that he has a wicked grin plastered on his face. Michael reaches in behind him and shoves open the door marked “James McAvoy,” kissing at the corner of James’ lips as he pushes them both inside. “My beautiful, hungover TARDIS.”

James parts his lips in anticipation of a kiss and Michael is about to oblige him just because those lips need a good pillaging when there is a stern cough from inside the room.

Michael looks up at the small team of makeup artists who have already arrived at James’ dressing room. It is a testament to their professionalism that they don’t even bat an eyelid. Underneath him, Michael can feel James heat up in embarrassment, turning a delicious shade of red even as he groans in disappointment. Michael steals in a quick kiss before he is shooed away into his own dressing room.

\--

James is absolutely starving. They have a short break between interviews, the hangover having worn off a while ago, mostly due to the seltzer that Michael had somehow procured for him. He doesn’t remember much of the past couple of hours and he’s not sure how he got through them. Hopefully, he didn’t make too big of a fool of himself.

His head still feels like a whole construction crew is having a go at it though. Michael refuses to let him take any pills for that because of something he read in the internet about them being bad for hangovers.

James heads for the refreshments table and starts stuffing himself on a cream cheese and salmon sandwich that he picks at random. He can’t help the moan that escapes his lips as the sandwich seems to explode in his mouth. He wants to find the person who made these sandwiches and give them a big kiss. Or maybe even a fuck, if they wanted. It’s that good.

Or maybe it’s just that he always felt like eating when he’s this hungover.

No, the sandwich really is _that_ good.

James nearly chokes on his next bite of the sandwich when he feels someone wrap an arm around his waist.

“Ooh, baby, save some for later.”

A shiver runs down James’ spine at the breath that tickles the top of his ear and he can feel himself fitting into Michael perfectly like they were meant for snuggling into each other.

“Go away and let me finish my sandwich in peace.”

Michael buries his nose in James’ hair, holding him tighter. “What I wouldn’t give to be that sandwich right now.”

James almost drops the sandwich as he feels something poking at his backside and he slaps Michael’s hand away as it tries to snake under his shirt.

“Michael, we’re working.”

“It’s never stopped us before.”

James has to laugh at that and finds that he can’t think of a good retort because it’s true and he can’t say that he doesn’t want to fuck Michael senseless right now.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to say anything because the sandwich is snatched away from him as the makeup crew sweep them away to do some retouches before their next interview.

In the flurry of activity, the next time James sees Michael is when they’re settling down in front of the cameras once more and meeting their next interviewer.

James goes through the motions of answering the man’s questions. He’s gone over his responses so many times he can probably do the interview asleep. And he practically is falling asleep in his chair as he babbles on about what superpower he’d like to have.

Michael probably notices that James isn’t paying much attention anymore because he catches James’ eye and flashes him a wicked smile.

“So was this the first time you two have met?”

“Well we actually met in the set of Band of Brothers. The funny thing about that was there were all these Brits pretending to be American and I really, I thought that Michael was really American.”

“I was on my Vespa and there was this man in a helmet going ‘James! James, we know each other!’ And I couldn’t recognise him, because of the visor, and he goes ‘It’s Fassbender!’ And I just remember thinking, ‘This is insane, the guy is talented.’”

James recognises the glint in Michael’s eye as he says something that catches James quite by surprise. “Well, that’s what we usually tell people who ask anyway. But in reality, James and I met in another planet located in the constellation of Kasterborous, at galactic coordinates ten-zero-eleven-zero-zero by zero-two from galactic zero centre some 250 million light years away from Earth.”

Now Michael has James’ full attention as James shakes in his seat with contained laughter. The interviewer’s cool demeanour cracks, revealing a frown which disappears almost as quickly as it had appeared as he pushes the conversation forward.

“So you were excited to be working together for the first time?” He does his best to skim over Michael’s last response, probably unsure of where that conversation is going but Michael doesn’t even skip a beat.

“Oh yes, definitely. Matthew had already cast James as Charles when I was asked to come in but I practically stole James away.”

James looks over at Michael, cocking his eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think _I_ wasn’t the one who stole _you_ away?”

“My TARDIS?”

“My Doctor. Do fish have fingers?”

James locks eyes with Michael for a heated moment before they both burst into laughter. The frown returns on the poor interviewer’s face as he turns to the producer, searching for an answer to this deviation to the norm but the producer just shrugs, not much help because he himself isn’t sure what’s just happened.

“I--- Um… Sorry, can we call a cut?” The interviewer gestures with his hand across his neck and the camera stops rolling. James has to hold onto Michael because he’s laughing so hard. He looks up at Michael to see that the edges of his eyes are crinkling in that way they always do when he laughs. And, God, he’s just so beautiful like this. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

\--

James grunts as he drops onto the bed and starts to curl up on top of the soft sheets, without even bothering to take his shoes off.

“Hey, not on the sheets!” Michael toes his own shoes off and pushes James’ feet off the bed. James groans in protest amid the dull thud as his feet land back on the floor.

“I’m tired. Give me a break.”

Michael gives him a look and lets out a dramatic sigh before proceeding to unlace his shoes and slip them off for him. James looks up at him from his comfortable position on the bed.

“All right, if you insist, _honey_.” James exerts the bare minimum of effort to toss away the clothes he’s been wearing the whole day, discarding them by the bed and Michael thinks fine, at least he’s sparing the bed. He just can’t be arsed anymore.

James can probably read his thoughts from the expression on his face because he is laughing. “You’d make a lovely wife,” he teases.

“Oh yeah? Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Michael asks as he pinches the tender part of James’ thigh. He starts to push off the bed when James grabs at his shirt and pulls him back down.

“Well, it was, actually.”

Michael stills as he hovers over James, arm propped on the bed and feeling a bit like déjà vu, except James isn’t hung over and they’re not in any rush to get anywhere. He imagines the two of them sharing a house together, maybe they’d get a dog. And of course someone would have to look after James. He really is a bit of a slob who can’t cook for shite. The visual is almost too much and Michael finds himself yearning for it.

They don’t do the whole cheesy romantic routine. With James, it’s mostly a playful (yet discreet) slap on the arse here or a quick snog in the dressing rooms or flirty teasing. Because Michael already knows how James feels about him, and James doesn’t need Michael to tell him that he means the world to Michael.

So there is a nice little warmth pooling in Michael’s heart as he settles in next to James, even though he feels his own tiredness creep in. It is with pleasant surprise that he feels James kneading his hands against the knots on his back, knowing exactly where to apply pressure and where to do little than skim over the exhausted muscle.

“I missed you so much. You are never allowed to be more than a room away from me ever again,” Michael murmurs into James’ hair.

“I can deal with that.”

Michael is quiet as he casts aside his shirt and jeans, dropping them by James’ own discarded pieces of clothing, until he’s only wearing boxers before shimmying under the covers. James can tell that there’s something on his mind because he nudges Michael with his shoulder.

“What?”

“I was thinking…”

“Hmm…?”

“Would you like to move in with me? I mean, I guess it’s not much of a gesture since either of us is hardly ever home most of the time but it’d be nice to make it official, don’t you think? Even if it’s just between the two of us.” The world doesn’t have to know, he doesn’t have to say.

James’ smile widens and he pulls Michael in for a kiss, slow and languid.

“Michael, you sentimental prick, of course I’ll move in with you.”

Michael is silent as he traces his thumb on the contours of James’ cheekbones. Neither are exactly going to be prepared when the tabloids explode with their news (which will probably be any day now, considering how they haven't actually been all that discreet about their relationship), some of their so-called friends gossiping behind their backs but all they’ll ever need is each other, and they _have_ that. Despite everything that might come out of this, Michael feels blessed and he would not have it any other way.

They snuggle into each other under the covers, having changed out of their clothes, only barely paying attention to the television screen as its volume is dialled down into a murmur and Michael finds that he’s looking forwards to more nights like these where, after a long day, he can just crawl into bed and snuggle up to James and fall asleep watching television.

He sits up in bed quite suddenly as, out of habit, he switches the channel to BBC America and hears the familiar riff that was the soundtrack to his childhood. He laces his hand against James’, who is looking at the television screen with bleary eyes as The Doctor, Amy and Rory step out of the TARDIS and into the junkyard planet, oblivious to the adventure that awaits them.

James lets out a wide yawn and Michael can feel his breathing even out beside him that tells him that he’s fallen asleep.

“I have no intention of giving you back,” Michael whispers to his sleeping figure, placing a kiss on his dark locks.

It isn’t long before Michael curls up beside him, an arm protectively around James’ chest and in their peaceful slumber, the television screen continues on, nonchalant, as it dawns on the Doctor who the bitey mad lady in the cage really is.

“My TARDIS?” Eleven asks, eyes going wide.

“My Doctor.”

**Author's Note:**

> I ~~may have~~ winged the interview a little, with the interview in this fic being an assortment of snippets from several actual interviews.


End file.
